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Aemond had always hated King’s Landing – the filthy, crowded streets, the stench of unwashed bodies and human waste. There was nothing appealing in its depravity, no magnetism to the dirty flesh displayed by the whores lurking in street corners, or the smell of booze wafting from the taverns. Not to him, at least. He unfortunately couldn’t say the same for his brother.
Aemond had long since lost track of the number of times he’d ventured down here, to the rotten underbelly of the city, just to pluck a piss-drunk Aegon from some brothel or another. While Aemond’s hours were spent in the training grounds and in the library, Aegon’s were spent here. Wasting away. Destroying himself in any way he could, both body and soul.
Ever the good soldier . Leave it to Aemond to track down his wastrel of a brother, to search the darkest crevices of this squalid city and drag him out by his hair to claim a birthright he’d never shown half an interest in. Would all their problems be solved, he wondered briefly, if Aemond had simply been born first?
It didn’t take too long to find him, tucked away in a shadowy corner of a nameless establishment, a head of stringy pale hair bowed over a half-finished drink. He looked… well, he looked like he usually did when he disappeared into the city. Pale eyes glazed and red-rimmed, ever swimming with unshed tears. Blonde hair disheveled and greasy, unruly strands falling in front of his face. Aemond chose not to let his attention wander to the state of his clothes, or the lingering smell of sweat and stale wine wafting from his body.
It was hardly the first time they’d done this dance, so Aemond expected what came next. He expected the panicked widening of Aegon’s eyes, the immediate dash towards the exit. Aemond countered it smoothly, moving on feather-light feet, precise movements honed by countless hours of training. Hours Aegon didn’t have.
“Let me go!” Aegon shouted hysterically as Aemond hauled him into a quiet back room of the dark den of degenerates Aegon had buried himself in. He screamed it over and over again, writhing in his little brother’s iron grip. So much so, in fact, that Aemond’s ears rang with the words long after their vibrations had ceased, smothered by the heavy silence now overtaking the small, secluded room.
“Are you quite done?” Aemond sighed, tightening his grip just enough to show Aegon he could stay here for hours if he had to, manhandling him into submission.
“Is our father truly dead?” Aegon asked quietly. His voice was hoarse from screaming. Or perhaps from the drink.
“Yes,” Aemond replied. “And they’re going to make you King.” If the prospect of Aegon sitting atop the Iron Throne didn’t make Aemond’s chest burn with envy, he would have relished the dread creeping across Aegon’s delicate features, the misery churning deep in the violets of his eyes.
Aegon’s tongue darted out to lick plush, cracking lips. His gaze snapped towards the door, and Aemond was prepared for the attempt at prying out of his grasp. Aegon seethed as Aemond dragged him back yet again. Teeth bared, he hissed: “I don’t want it.” The admission hung in the air, spinning slowly on an iridescent thread until it snapped, something inside Aegon snapping alongside it.
Aegon clung to him, pleading words falling from his lips with the urgency of a dying man. “No one else knows I’m here,” he said. “Just let me go and I’ll find a ship and sail away, never to be found.” He fisted at Aemond’s tunic, unblinking eyes meeting Aemond’s one, searching it for the barest inkling of his thoughts, his intentions.
Aemond couldn’t deny that the thought was tempting. Aegon would be allowed to self-destruct on his own terms, whoring and drinking himself to death wherever he pleased, while Aemond… well, Aemond would get what he had always wanted, what he had always seemed made for .
“But you want it, don’t you?” Aegon read his mind. “Think about it, brother. It would- it would benefit us both, if you simply-”
“Are you so incapable of fulfilling your duty?”
Aegon’s pale brow pulled together in a soft frown. He couldn’t look Aemond in the eye.
“I’m not suited for it.”
“You’ll find no argument from me.”
It was no secret, after all. In fact, it was painfully obvious to anyone who knew Aegon just how inept a ruler he would be. Disinterested. Depraved. There’d always been something unwell about Aegon, an indescribable storm churning within him, tearing him apart from the inside. It reared its head in the ugliest ways, in violent urges and ceaseless self-degradation.
Aemond pulled a chair across the grimy stone floor, dropping into it with a short sigh. His eye remained on his brother as he did so, taking in the dejected lines of his shoulders, the desperation clinging to him like a second skin, oozing from his pores like last night’s liquor.
“But suppose I did agree to let you go…”
And Aegon must have completely given up the last of his shame, because he dropped to his knees before his brother, entwining soft, pale hands with Aemond’s larger, calloused ones. Aemond ran his thumb along the delicate skin of Aegon’s wrist, tracking over the verdant network of veins. Aegon’s plea went unspoken as he looked up at Aemond with those haunted eyes.
Aemond’s fingers curled into his brother’s soft blonde hair, admiring him. Admiring how truly breathtaking he looked here, on his knees, relinquishing the final scraps of his dignity. He supposed he could go further, test how far he could push Aegon before he broke. He let himself ponder it as he continued to twist strands of dirty white hair between his fingers, just the way he knew sent shivers of pleasure down Aegon’s spine.
“I’ll do anything,” whispered Aegon.
It was clear in the immediate stiffening of his shoulders that he recognized his mistake, recognized that he’d shown Aemond his hand and had no cards left to play.
Yet he pushed stubbornly forward. Aegon steeled his expression, clearly challenging Aemond, asking him to name his price. He knew Aemond had no taste for base depravities. Their cruelty had different flavours, after all. Yet he gave Aemond far too much credit. Base depravities were indeed the only thing befitting the situation.
Sex had never meant much to Aemond. He’d never been ensnared by it as Aegon had. To him, sex was nothing but power.
And that was exactly the rush Aemond felt as his palm grew heavier on the back of Aegon’s head, pushing it towards his crotch, towards the cock he’d freed from his pants. Power. The rush intensified as Aegon’s eyes flickered up to his, narrowing slightly as he accepted the proposition for what it was. The simmering anger and indignation beneath his brother’s skin made Aemond’s cock swell with blood.
The first swipe of Aegon’s tongue against the swollen head was hesitant, experimental. He lapped up the first bead of pre-cum and his lips tightened, as if deliberating changing his mind. A slow exhale signalled the steeling of Aegon’s resolve, his warm, velvety mouth wrapping itself around Aemond’s dick, taking his length only to where it hit the tightened muscles at the back of his throat.
Aemond had always been enchanted by Aegon’s eyes. The tears that glistened along his waterline, the deep dark circles and irritated red rims that made their indigo shine even brighter, gleaming like pools of clear water in summer sunlight. They held a certain loneliness, a certain pain, that never ceased to pull Aemond into their abyss.
Aegon gagged softly as Aemond pulled his head closer, thrusting slowly into his throat. He recoiled, attempting to pull away.
“Relax,” Aemond instructed, pulling Aegon in once again. Again the muscles in the back of his throat tensed, his body convulsing as it rejected the intrusive presence. “Aegon.” Aemond’s hand ran gently through his hair, down to his neck, to the sharp protrusions of his spine. Aegon's eyelids fluttered shut at the tender contact.
Aemond couldn’t help but think his brother looked his best like this, swollen red lips wrapped around his cock, watering eyes screaming for approval. For a shred of the affection he so desperately craved. Aemond dragged the back of his knuckle along Aegon’s cheekbone, drinking him in once more.
Oh, pretty, pretty Aegon. His tragically beautiful brother.
Was this how Aegon felt, Aemond wondered, with those serving girls? Was this how he enjoyed them, on their knees? Somehow Aemond doubted it. He knew Aegon. He’d rather be loved. Admired. He’d never much cared for power. But in the absence of those things… well, he did as all pathetic men did, and settled for whatever scraps he could steal.
Aemond’s eye travelled listlessly to the cracks in the ceiling, to the light streaming in through the tiny curtained window. For some reason, he’d expected Aegon to be more skilled at this, to have gained experience through his many escapades. Aegon’s inexperience and Aemond’s disinterest in the affairs of the flesh were the makings of a rather long and tedious thing.
Aegon was beginning to stir uncomfortably, move his weight from one side to the other, shift his aching jaw. Occasionally he’d glance up at Aemond with those glazed doll eyes. Impatient. Expectant. How long is this going to take? He seemed to demand.
Aemond’s lips twitched into a thin smile as he took his brother’s face in both hands, thrusting into his silky throat with fervour, no longer holding back. Every time Aegon released the tension at the back of his throat to let Aemond in, he’d simply pull out again, only to thrust against the unprepared muscles once more. Aegon struggled to pull back, spit and bile glistening in the corners of his mouth. Aemond easily overpowered him, grasping a handful of pale hair and keeping him in place, the fingers of his free hand tracing along the bulge in Aegon's pretty white throat, strained and distended around Aemond's cock.
Perhaps it was petty jealousy, or perhaps simple cruelty, but the sight of the future king choking on his cock while glistening tears rolled down flushed cheeks caused a wave of pleasure to wrack Aemond’s body, heat pooling in his groin as he moaned his brother’s name.
Aemond fisted Aegon’s hair as he came, holding him close, burying his nose in soft, pale pubic hair. As his semen was dutifully swallowed and Aegon coughed into his lap, gasping for breath, Aemond took a moment to etch the memory into the depths of his subconscious, memorizing the self-hatred lingering in the lines of Aegon’s face, the emptiness in those miserable eyes. Memorizing the face of a pitiful boy who’d rather be here, on his knees in front of his brother, than fulfilling his duty. There was no doubt about it, Aegon wasn’t fit to rule. He was weak. Without a single shred of ambition. He’d gladly waste his life away in brothels and gambling dens, drinking himself into his grave without having the brains to realize what a disgrace it was. What a disgrace he was.
Aegon dragged the back of his hand across his face, saying nothing.
Aemond pulled up his pants with little ceremony, standing to brush himself off. Retrieving Aegon had taken much longer than expected. Ser Criston would no doubt be getting impatient waiting outside the door.
“Come, Aegon,” Aemond wrapped his hand around his brother’s bicep, hauling him to his feet. He ripped his arm free immediately. Aegon’s expression was vacant, like he was retreating into a dark, perilous place deep within his own mind, a place of anger and self-pity. The kind of place he usually drank or fucked to crawl out of.
None of the smallfolk paid the pair any mind as they ducked out of the crumbling establishment. Aegon shielded his eyes against the sun as they stepped outside, groaning softly to himself. No doubt painfully hung over.
“Prince Aegon,” Ser Criston greeted curtly, a strong hand gripping the young man’s shoulder. “Your mother awaits.”
“Wait…” Aegon’s head snapped sideways, pleading eyes finding Aemond. “You said-”
“Said what, brother?” Aemond’s head tilted to the side, a thin smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Of course, the thought of sending Aegon away and ascending the throne himself was tempting. More than tempting. Yet as most tempting things were, it was too good to be true. Aemond understood what Aegon didn’t. There was nowhere he could run. Nowhere he could hide. As much as they both hated it, Aegon had to face his destiny head-on. It was simply the way of things.
And when Aegon crashed and burned and all eyes looked to Aemond instead… well, when they came looking for him, he intended to be found.